Starcross'd Lovers
by Vampyre Heartbreak
Summary: My Tanabata Contest entry for FLOL. IchiHime. Vague RenRuki. Strong T. Ichigo had missed his chance with her. But now he was getting a second chance, because they were Orihime and Hikoboshi. -Complete-


* * *

I got this done! I'm so proud of myself!

I happen to like this one. It seemed different from what I normally do. ^^

Not beta'd, cuz I'm low on time left.

* * *

The town of Karakura was alight with the many flickering lights of the vendors, and the streetlights, seeming to twinkle along with the many voices that rose and fell in laughter and cheers. They were celebrating the legend of Tanabata, a story about star-crossed lovers that were allowed to meet one day each year; this year. And despite the cheering at the lack of rain and the knowledge that the lovers had been reunited at long last, one certain orange-haired man felt very much alone.

He was surrounded by classmates he knew vaguely, and friends who he knew personally, and yet he was missing a certain-auburn-haired woman. And the various cries of her name did not help. He knew logically that he would never see her again, and yet every time he heard 'Orihime' he could help the flicker of hope rising in his gut. Her best friend had not forgiven him, and probably never would. He knew he wouldn't have. Every time he met Tatsuki's royal blue eyes, the guilt of failing her, and the feeling of uselessness only increased.

He felt like telling her that it wasn't his fault, but he knew that she wouldn't believe him. Ishida was probably the only one who did, and only because he had been there and had seen it when it occurred. Tatsuki wouldn't listen to any of them, and had pounded Ichigo so hard he had spent a month in his father's hospital recovering from the broken bones. He might have fought back if it hadn't been for the tears brimming on the corner of the Arisawa's eyes.

The casket at the funeral had been empty, due to the fact that when she had died, she hadn't had a corporeal body. It wasn't until after the funeral, when he was sitting home alone, still in his suit, that he realized that she was really gone. That she wasn't coming back. He had seen the blood staining her previously white outfit, oozing from the corner of her mouth as she coughed and gagged. He had heard her surprisingly calm explanation; seen the tears in her eyes. He had seen her die before him, and it didn't fully hit him until just then.

It was the first time in a long time that he had cried.

"Oi, Ichigo!" The loud, brash call caused him to look up, only to see the petite form of Rukia rushing towards him as fast as her wooden geta sandals would allow her. Her shoulder-length raven hair had been pulled away from her face into a low braid except for the usual lock falling between her eyes. Her hair, though slightly longer now, was still too short to do much else with. Her deep purple yukata with the tiny, light blue Chappy heads printed on it and the light green Obi surrounding her tiny waist flattered her, bringing out her violet eyes.

"Hey, Rukia," he greeted her blandly. She eyed his gaunt features, the bags under his eyes, and sighed knowingly.

She reached up to sock him none-too-gently in the shoulder. "Cheer up, loser. It's a festival." He didn't even flinch from her punch, merely staring down at her blankly.

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "_Her _festival." Rukia bit her lower lip; her attempts to try and bring out the old Ichigo, the one who would flown into a rage at her punch calling her names and attempting to hit her back, was failed. He had matured, and no longer was short-tempered.

It was Orihime's death that had caused this sudden maturing, she knew. She hadn't been there to witness it personally, but Ishida had enlightened them in a low voice, to try and not be overheard by the irate, almost frenzied Ichigo that had stood only a few feet away from them. And she knew that it was not Ichigo's fault that the sweet girl had passed away; it was that bastard Aizen's fault.

She had been there for Ichigo's fight against Aizen, and the violent, wild way that Ichigo had fought against the former captain; the golden flash in his chocolate brown irises had…frightened her. It had been the first time that she had ever been afraid of Ichigo. Ishida had first thought that he was losing himself to his inner Hollow, but despite a low growl that deepened his voice and made him seem that much more feral, it was obvious that Ichigo had never had more control over himself.

Kyoka Suigetsu's illusions seemed to have no effect on the substitute shinigami, who shrugged them off with no hesitation The only one that had even given him brief pause was the illusion of Inoue, smiling brightly and in her school uniform, before he barreled right past it and slammed his Bankai'd Zangetsu through Aizen's heart. It had taken him mere seconds to dispose of Ichimaru, and only a few more seconds to sever Tosen's head.

It hadn't been until after the fight, with the combined blood of the three traitors smearing the walls of the Great Hall of Los Noches, that Soul Society tore into the room, bloodied and beaten and ready for a new fight, only to realize that it was done. All they saw was the limbless torso of Aizen, the head of Tosen lying several feet away from its body, and the disemboweled remains of Ichimaru, and Ichigo standing above them, bloody with none of his own blood, and coldly victorious.

He had ignored the compliments that had rained down upon him, calling him a hero, and left the room to return home, without Orihime, whose non-corporeal body would have disintegrated in the Garganta due to the fact that she had died and the spirit particles forming her body would not have been able to cling together to hold their shape. The fact that he couldn't even bring her body back had nearly killed Ichigo; though that was nothing compared to the beating Tatsuki had given him upon finding out.

His face had been beaten raw, one eye so swollen that he could not open it, and several teeth were missing, and he couldn't speak due to the fact that he had nearly bitten his tongue off. Ribs had been broken, and the radius of his left arm had been fractured. It had not made for a pretty sight, and she had had to help him limp home to be patched up by his father.

Fingers snapped below her nose, and without even thinking about it, her fingers launched out to grasp them in a firm grip. Belatedly, she realized it was only Ichigo getting her attention, and released her vice-like grip on his callused fingers. "You were daydreaming," he informed her calmly.

"Was not," she argued, crossing her arms over her chest. Briefly there was a flicker of rebelliousness in his brown depths, though it disappeared quickly. The hope that had welled in her chest vanished.

"It took me three times to get your attention. That is called daydreaming," Ichigo replied back in that bland voice that he always seemed to speak in now. Rukia had had no idea that she could hate anything as much as she hated that bland, unrevealing voice.

"Whatever, idiot. I see Renji. Let's go say hi." She grasped the sleeve of his cotton yukata and tugged him in the direction of the longhaired redhead, who was talking with Rangiku and a few of their mutual school friends. He had left his long red hair down from its normal spiky ponytail. It was striking against his black kimono with the red vines along the edges and the thin deep oak brown obi around his waist.

After belting out a greeting, Rukia moved swiftly to Renji's side, surreptitiously slipping her hand into his, neither one of them responding to the tiny show of affection. Ichigo's brown eyes lingered on their connected hands for a moment, pain flashing through his eyes, before muttering that he was going to go get something to drink before slinking off into the crowd in search of a stall serving drinks. Rangiku's light blue eyes watched the gray fabric of his yukata disappeared in the mess of brightly colored yukatas.

"He's not doing so good, is he?" She observed softly. Rukia shook her head, resting her head against Renji's shoulder lightly.

"He's at least talking now. The first few months, he was practically catatonic. I asked his sisters. He barely ate, barely slept, didn't answer when called. It was like night of the living dead around here." Rukia answered, before looking at the fukutaichou sharply. "Did it work?"

"Mm hm. I'm just glad that Yamamoto-soutaichou has a soft spot," Rangiku replied, smiling wryly.

"Or feels guilty, you mean," Ishida muttered venomously under his breath. He hadn't quite forgiven Yamamoto for how easily he had dismissed Orihime as a traitor despite all that she had helped the Soul Society. Rangiku's blue eyes flashed warningly at him, though she didn't argue with him. She herself was less than pleased with the soutaichou for refusing to help whom she considered a sister but she could not go against Yamamoto.

"Shall we follow him? Make sure he doesn't screw up?" Renji asked with a smirk.

Rukia planted her knuckles into his ribs firmly, causing him to bend over double, shaking her head. "Don't be stupid. Let's leave them alone. Ichigo's not nearly as immature as he was six months ago. Let's go look at the gaming stalls." Under Rukia's fiercely protective glare, everyone shuffled off in the opposite direction that Ichigo had wandered several minutes ago.

* * *

Ichigo sat on a bench across from a stall selling bubble drinks, staring down at his own mango flavored bubble tea blankly. He wasn't really thirsty, but the affection between Rukia and Renji had made the festering wound in his chest tear open even more. He had been in love with Orihime, he had discovered that after her funeral and after her death had fully hit him. He also knew that it wasn't the kind of love that disappeared in a few months. And watching Rukia and Renji's obvious contentedness made him feel that much worse.

Bare foot wearing only geta with a pale green strap paused in front of him. The yukata that the person was wearing was a light green with familiar six-pointed flowers in blue printed over it. There was a light lavender border on the yukata. "Fuck off, this seat's taken," Ichigo growled, not looking up, and wanting to wallow in his misery.

"Mango bubble tea has always been my favorite, Kurosaki-kun."

The familiar sweet, soft voice had him yanking his head up so fast that the vertebrae in his neck cracked painfully. Inoue Orihime in all of her innocent, glorious beauty stood in front of him with her dainty hands folded together neatly in front of her. She smiled down at him, auburn hair pulled away from her face in a half ponytail, with her bangs pushed sideways over her forehead. Her blue hairpins were pinned on either side of her face, nestled firmly in her hair. She wore no makeup except for some clear lip gloss that made her lips glisten and mascara that made her long lashes look even longer.

Her cheeks flushed in the way he was so used to, as she stood in front of him, looking the same as she had before her death. Ichigo lurched to her feet, staring at her with wide eyes. He grasped her shoulders in a death grip, making sure that she was here, breathing. "_How_?" He rasped hoarsely, almost immediately smelling the scent of _her_; of peach blossoms and vanilla. Her large gray eyes, alight with worry, scanned him worriedly.

"Kurosaki-kun, you don't look so good." She bit her lower lip worriedly. He shook her hard; unconvinced it was her.

"Rukia, if this is some sick joke of your's-" Her small hands wrapped around one of his larger ones, twining her small fingers with his blunter ones.

"Kurosaki-kun, its me. This isn't a joke," she insisted.

"But…_How_?" His voice was faint.

She plucked at the edge of her yukata shyly, a habit he recognized well, as her cheeks flushed brightly, another habit he recognized with a secret sigh of relief. "I am in a gigai. One of Urahara-san's gigais, more specifically."

"But, how are you _here_?" His voice hadn't gotten any louder.

She lead him back to the bench where he had been sitting down gently, taking up his mango tea before he could sit on it. "You should sit down, Kurosaki-kun. You don't look so good."

He ignored this. "How are you here?"

She sat down next to him, crossing her legs at the ankles neatly as she folded her hands in her lap. She smiled softly at him. "I'm a shinigami, Kurosaki-kun."

"It's only been six months…"

"I know. Rukia-san managed to convince her brother to allow me to be adopted into the Kuchiki family. And that allowed me to graduate almost immediately. We managed to convince Yamamoto-soutaichou to allow me to come here for one night, and Rangiku-san contacted Urahara-san and borrowed a gigai from him. And, well, here I am." She explained softly, spreading her arms to enunciate her point.

"For one night?"

"One night," she confirmed.

"Why?"

"Why what?" She blinked owlishly.

"Why did you come?"

"Because…I missed you. And I mean you in specific, Kurosaki-kun. I missed everyone else as well, but I missed you the most." She lowered her lashes sheepishly, her hands tightening together. "I've been watching you since I arrived at the Soul Society. I saw how withdrawn you become, how you wouldn't eat, sleep. You gave up being a shinigami. It was killing me watching you slowly waste away."

"So…everyone knows?"

"Not everyone," Orihime shook her head. "Rukia-san, Renji-kun, and Rangiku-san know. I think Ishida-kun found out."

"Not Tatsuki?"

A brief flash of pain flickered through Orihime's gray eyes, and Ichigo regretted bringing up the Arisawa. "No, not Tatsuki-chan. I wanted so badly to tell her, but its an ancient law that one cannot contact the living once dead. That's how come I couldn't tell you, nor could Rukia-san or any of the other Shinigami."

"But I'm a Shinigami." Ichigo pointed out.

"But also part of the living. Your being a substitute Shinigami doesn't change anything." She replied, looking down at her folded hands.

"Inoue-"

Before he could continue, she jumped to her feet and twirled to face him in a happy, but slightly fumbling, movement before beaming down at him. "C'mon, Kurosaki-kun! I only have one night in the world of the living! Let's make it memorable, okay?" She asked, extending a dainty hand down towards him. He stared at it blankly, and she wiggled her hand enticingly. Finally letting out a halfhearted smirk, he took her hand and she pulled him to his feet with relative ease, and he blinked before realizing that the gigai was stronger than her original human form.

"Where do you want to go first?" She asked, still smiling. He blinked, looking confused. "Let's do the gaming stalls," she decided after waiting a moment only to get no reply. "I've never been able to win a goldfish, but this shall be my day," she laughed softly.

"Inoue-"

"That's not my name anymore, Kurosaki-kun, remember? I'm Kuchiki Orihime now." She pointed out softly.

_Inoue Orihime sounds better, _he thought almost bitterly to himself, scowling.

Orihime noticed, and couldn't help but giggle. He looked down at her with an arched eyebrow. "You were scowling." She giggled again. When he looked slightly more irritated, "It's been a while since I've seen your scowl. Most of the time now, you look so sad."

"Hey, um…" What should he call her now?

"You could call me Orihime, Kurosaki-kun. We're still nakama, aren't we?"

"Of course." His response was automatic, and she smiled knowingly at him. "I'll call you Orihime, if you call me Ichigo." He bargained with her.

"Very well, …Ichigo-kun," she mumbled his name quietly, blushing many different colors.

"Hey, Orihime…"

"Hmm?" She looked up from where she had been admiring the various pieces of jewelry that a particular vendor was selling.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have listened? I knew that you would still have to fight Aizen; there is no way possible that he would have let you and the rest of our friends just walk away after penetrating Los Noches so deeply and killing so many of the Espada." She answered, immediately knowing it was he was referring to.

"I see. And…how is it?" His tone made it obvious that this was what he had wanted to ask from the very beginning.

"It's there. I can hear it every minute of every day; tempting me. But Hirako-kun and the rest of the Vaizards have helped me tame it, so I don't believe it will overcome me." She answered, forcing her voice to be cheerful.

"How long can you hold it?"

"Only about four minutes on a good day," she replied before lighting up. "Oooh, Ichigo-kun! Look, here's the goldfish stand!" She hurried over as fast as her wooden sandals would allow. However, one of the teeth on the bottom of her geta caught on a small pebble, and she went tumbling to the ground. However, Ichigo's reactions were still lightning fast and caught her with ease, spinning her around so her back pressed securely against his chest and his arms around her waist.

Her breathing was escalated, causing the soft mounds of her breasts to brush against his arm, and he froze before rapidly releasing her before his sudden arousal could manifest itself physically. He swallowed tightly, as she placed a hand on her heaving chest to try and calm her breathing. He averted his eyes, throat tight. Then, acting as if nothing had happened, she grasped his hand firmly and tugged him in the direction of the goldfish stall. He went along willingly, trying to ignore how warm her small hands were.

"Three rounds each, please." He told the man, slapping the appropriate amount of yen onto the counter.

* * *

Plink. "Dammit."

Plink. "Dammit."

Plink. "Double dammit."

A slap on the counter. "Three more."

"Ano, Ichigo-kun…"

"Yeah, Orihime?"

"Could I try?"

"Oh, um, sure." He handed her a small paper net, and she knelt down neatly beside him, examining the many scaled golden fish swimming in the tank.

Moments later, "Here you go, little lady," as she was handed a bag with a single goldfish with large frilly fans swam around in it without a care in the world. She beamed at the vendor and thanked him sweetly. Ichigo, still kneeling on the ground, shot the captured fish the evil eye.

"Traitor," he muttered, before finally snagging one. "Gotcha, you little bastard! Thought you could get away from me!" he crowed to the flopping fish, as Orihime opened her bag of water.

"Here, Kurosaki-kun. You can put your's in with mine," she offered sweetly and he slid the little fish it before plopping the sodden paper net back on the counter.

"Thanks," he nodded to her, getting to his feet and stretching. They started to walk down the street, as he listened to Orihime's oohs and awes over the brightly colored stalls and lights. She hadn't changed, much. She was a little calmer, and he had yet to hear one of her insane daydreamings, but she still found joy in the smallest thing and had that same smile reserved just for him.

* * *

From around the corner behind the pair, three pairs of eyes poked out from around it; one light blue, one violet, and one dark crimson.

"So whatever happened to this, 'no peeking' rule again?" Renji taunted his girlfriend in a low voice. Rukia promptly turned around and kneed him, and the tall redhead went down like a ton of bricks, whining under his breath. Rangiku eyed the writhing male and said or did nothing and turned back around to peer in on the back of the ignorant couple.

"Did you see his face just now when he caught her? That move was worthy of the dance floor." Rangiku chortled, practically falling out of the low neckline of her light silver yukata, much to the eagerness of the men across the street. Rukia rolled her eyes, straightening.

"C'mon, they're on the move."

Rangiku straightened and followed the petite Kuchiki. "So, our plan a success?"

"No kisses."

"Oh, right."

"Though if they wander down to the river, I'm out. I am not following them down there." Renji, voice still several octaves higher than normal, hobbled after them, looking faintly green which clashed magnificently with his hair.

"Wimp."

"Sticks and stones, love," he made a kissy face at Rukia and she grimaced, socking him hard in the sternum, causing his breath to leave him in a whoosh as he doubled over.

Rangiku observed. "It's amazing you haven't killed him yet, Kuchiki."

Rukia grinned roguishly. "I know, right? I think he has bones of steel."

"Not to mention organs," Renji muttered hoarsely. Rukia kicked him. "My spleen!" He collapsed onto the floor dramatically.

Rangiku shook her head. "Match made in hell, I say."

If they heard her, they ignored her.

* * *

Ichigo stared at the ominous-looking pieces of paper blankly.

Why did he agree to do this again?

The flash of auburn entered his sight, and he focused on the head of long hair almost instinctively.

Oh yeah, that was why.

Orihime pushed a thin piece of paper into his hands, "Here you go, Ichigo-kun. Write down your wish!"

Wish? What wish? The only thing he could possibly have hoped for was impossible, at least while he remained breathing on this side of the Dangai. Orihime set to writing down her wish without a moment's though, while Ichigo just stared at the piece of paper hatefully, trying to resist the urge to sulk.

Hastily, he scrawled out what his gut was telling him, _Make her mine. _His handwriting was practically illegible, he realized dimly. Not that it mattered any.

Orihime handed her's to the elderly lady at the same time he did, and the older lady smiled at the pair. "You two make a gorgeous couple."

Ichigo merely blinked, deciding that he kinda liked the idea of him and Orihime being a couple, even if it was for one night. Orihime's responding stammers were incoherent and Ichigo placed his hand on the small of her back and lead her away, inclining his head towards the elderly lady in acknowledgment.

"C'mon, Ichigo-kun. I'm getting a little hot from the lights. Let's go on down to the river, shall we?" Orihime fanned herself with her hand, smiling faintly up at him. He bit his tongue against the urge to say, "You've always been hot. Even hotter now."

"Sure, why not?" Was what came out instead.

Much safer.

* * *

On the way, they, well more like she, had gotten distracted by the many different kinds of food that the vendors were offering, and so after finding a blanket lying out that looked reasonably clean, they had finished making their way down to the river.

Now sitting carelessly on the blanket, Ichigo stared almost mournfully at his very close to being empty wallet.

"Dango! Dango, Dango, Dan-go!" Orihime sang softly under her breath, wresting his attention viciously and holding it again. "Dan-GOOOO!" She belted out the last part, mindless of who heard as she stared lovingly down at the sweet spherical balls on the skewers.

"What are you singing?" Ichigo asked, perplexed.

She flushed pink, as if just remembering that he was there. "It's my dango song. I sing it every time right before I eat dango!"

How very…Orihime.

"Would you like some?" She offered the skewer of the Mitarashi dango to him, and after eyeing it carefully to make sure she hadn't poisoned it with any of the 'dipping sauces' around her, he accepted, swiftly removing a single ball before returning it to her. The familiar, almost Teriyaki-flavor of the dango filled his mouth and he munched on the ball contentedly.

Orihime, with a smile on, immediately set to dipping each dango into the variety of dipping sauces. As he watched, she dipped it into wasabi before slathering it in the jelly, and finishing it with a sprinkle of flaked salmon that she had picked out from the inside of the onigiri.

From beside her, Ichigo's face went as green as the wasabi.

* * *

From the trees, "I taught her that, you know!" Rangiku hissed smugly to the two fellow shinigami beside her.

They blanched without her seeing.

* * *

It didn't take long for Orihime to eat both her food and his. Watching her eat after so long of falling out of the habit had made his appetite disappear.

"Yummy!" She sighed, patting her stomach. Ichigo, who had lied down on his back on the blanket, lifting his arm from over his head and looked at her. She looked so content and cute with the little bit of rice of an onigiri on the corner of her mouth.

"Missed a spot," he told her, flicking it off with the nail of his thumb gently. He tried to ignore the way that her cheeks turned very warm under his fingers.

"Arigato, Ichigo-kun," she told him, earning a yawn. He fell quiet as his brown eyes closed, and she examined his features again. He seemed so different from how she remembered. She hadn't been lying when she said she had checked up on him, and knew that he had barely been sleeping, even though he had given up being a shinigami after her death and therefore would have had plenty of time to sleep.

Even now, when he was at least responsive when somebody called him, there were bags under his eyes that seemed to be a permanent fixation on his face, and she was pretty sure she could fit her head into them if she tried. His once tanned skin had lost its robust glow and was almost as pale as Ulquiorra had been, if possible. His cheekbones were so much more prominent than they had ever been.

Almost unconsciously, her fingers brushed down across his cheek and his tired eyes flew open, though he didn't move. His eyes found her gray ones questioningly, and she smiled sadly, brushing the tip of her finger along the edge of the bruise-like shadows under his eyes. "You look so tired, Ichigo-kun," she answered his unanswered question. "And I know its my fault."

Unsure of how to respond to that, Ichigo sat up and she moved her hand back into her lap shyly. After a moment, she continued. "I saw that Tatsuki-chan pummeled you because you supposedly failed to save me-"

"I _did_ fail, Orihime," Ichigo cut her off then in his former brusque manner and she blinked mildly before her lips curved upwards into that sad smile. He _hated _that smile. "I promise to protect you, and I couldn't even save you from going to Hueco Mundo."

"I went in secret, Ichigo-kun. I went on my own free will," she pointed out, biting her lip against mentioning her final goodbye to him as well.

"-I couldn't save you from having that _thing _basically eat you alive from the inside out-" he went on blindly as if she hadn't said anything, missing her flinch at the mention of 'that thing.'

"-I didn't save you from them fucking with your head, or them fucking _raping _you-" Now her flinch was even more pronounced, and he noticed, cutting off his rant. "Oh Gods, I'm sorry, I-Orihime. I didn't mean it-"

She forced a smile, eyes darkened with pain. "Don't worry, Ichigo-kun. I know you didn't mean it."

He didn't miss the way that her hand had fisted tightly in the cotton fabric of her yukata. Realizing dimly that this was his fault, it didn't take much to convince him to extend his arm and pull Orihime into his chest.

The Rikka-user immediately stiffened, eyes wide as she realized after a second or two that she could quite clearly hear Ichigo's heartbeat next to her ear. His scent, woodsy with a bit of rain and mint tossed in, flooded her nostrils and without even realizing she inhaled the soothing scent. Such in a daze was she that she didn't even notice the way that she had been rambling on about…something until Ichigo's voice was heard telling her to be quiet and accept the hug.

His voice now resonated from his chest and into her ear, deeper and huskier, while before, his voice seemed to come from his throat, where it was higher. She felt her already flushed cheeks go even brighter at her thoughts.

And hesitantly, slowly, her arms went around his waist, holding firm without crushing him.

They sat like that for a moment, each enjoying the other's familiar scent. He had never really realized just how familiar her scent was until she was gone and he never smelled it anymore.

After a few minutes, Orihime shifted slightly so she could look up at his face. He had already been staring at her, and he merely smiled wryly when her eyes met his. Their head neared each other, and their lips met in an agonizingly slow, tender kiss. Her eyes slid shut, but his remained open as he studied her face intently.

It was a chaste kiss, and they broke apart, forehead touching as their slight pants ghosted over each other's cheekbones. Orihime's face was bright red, though her gray eyes sparkled happily at him. Almost unbidden, his lips curled upwards ever so slightly, matching her own smile.

"Marry me."

* * *

Unseen in the trees, three jaws simultaneously dropped.

* * *

Orihime didn't think she had heard him right. "I'm sorry?"

"Marry me," he repeated.

"But…But…"

"Hear me out," he shifted his position slightly, looking intense. "I kinda maybe realized that I had…feelings for you, y'know, after you…went to the Soul Society. And if I can't see you after this for who knows how long, at least, I want to be able to think of myself as yours. Forever."

"Ichigo-kun…" Orihime trailed off, and he looked up at her, immediately noticing the tears brimming on the corner of her eyes. Dammit. "…I can't."

Despair crashed down on him like a ton of bricks.

She read him correctly; a tendency she had developed with relative ease after they had begun to talk on a regular basis over a year ago, and had apparently maintained. "Ichigo-kun, listen to me." She pleaded, taking his callused hands in her smaller, softer ones. Brown eyes focused on her blandly.

Her thumb began to absently trace small circles on the back of his hands, as she looked down at their joined hands. "I would love to marry, Ichigo-kun. But…I can't do that to you. We live in separate worlds now, and it could be _decades _before we meet again. I don't want to marry you tonight, only for you to meet someone in ten, fifteen years that you love and want to marry, but can't." She paused for a moment, and he realized dimly that her words made sense to him. "However, if you would like, I can make a promise with you."

He looked up at her. "What kind of promise?" He asked hoarsely.

"If you still want to marry me when you die and come to Soul Society, I will have the wedding set up as soon as you are there. However, if you find another woman and get married, then I shall wish you all the best of luck, and we can pretend as if this never happened," she explained with a soft smile, looking up at him.

"Promise?" He asked quietly.

"Promise," she agreed. She kissed his cheek briefly, and with bright red cheeks, clambered to her feet before nearly tripping as she steadied herself in her geta sandals. "C'mon, Ichigo-kun. I have the rest of the night off, and a lot of the festival to see." She smiled again, extending a hand to him. Without hesitation, he took her and helped her pull him up, as she wasn't quite stuff enough.

As they continued back down to the festival, food forgotten, their hands remained connected, both of their faces bright red.

* * *

Back in the trees, Rangiku let out a dreamy sigh and turned back to Rukia and Renji. "Okay, anybody else think that that was the sweetest thing ever?"

Mute, the pair merely nodded in unison, eyes wide.

The voluptuous blonde grinned mischievously. "Let's go spy on them. Knowing them, we'll have plenty more romantically awkward moments." Rangiku leapt down from the trees with ease, before straightening her light silver kimono and pale lavender obi. Without waiting, she sauntered back into the bright lights and loud noises that was the Tanabata festival.

* * *

Hours later, Ichigo was lying on his bed, staring at the hand that Orihime had held for the rest of the night, and was also coincidentally the hand she had healed before leaving for Hueco Mundo. He had changed out of the gray yukata and black obi his sisters had forced him into and into a more comfortable sweat pants and a plain gray shirt. His family were all asleep, he knew, but he was feeling strangely energized and couldn't sleep.

_If you still want to marry me when you die and come to Soul Society, I will have the wedding set up as soon as you are there. _

He smiled slightly as Orihime's softly spoken words rang through his mind once more. He closed his eyes and rolled over.

_It's a promise. _

* * *

_Orihime stood in front of him, gray eyes silently pleading with him for something he could not give. Blood, her blood, coated her lower lip and chin, flecks of it spraying down to the previous white fabric, sprinkling it a crimson color. With an almost bloodsoaked sleeve, she attempted to wipe the life-giving fluid away, only to smear it across her chin and cheek. _

"_Please, Kurosaki-kun," she pleaded brokenly, voice sounding wet as if she had fluid in her lungs. Then, he realized with a start, that she did probably have fluid in her lungs. _

"_I…I can't," he shook his head, his hand on Zangetsu shaking at the prospect of killing one of his dearest friends. _

"_Inoue-san, why is this happening?" Out of the trio, Ishida sounded the most in control, though Ichigo still detected a vague sense of panic in his voice._

_She opened her mouth to respond, but was forced to stop as a tremor wracked her body, forcing her to bend double. Another coughing fit caused more of her blood to splatter to the ground. "My body is…rejecting it," she gasped with difficulty, weakly looking up at her two protectors._

_A cold sensation doused over Ichigo, making him shiver. "Rejecting what?" he demanded hoarsely. Her pained eyes looked up at him, tears brimming on the corners. _

"_The inner Hollow."_

"_The _what_?" Ichigo sounded horrified, as his hands slipped on Zangetsu's handle, his grasp loosening. _

_She gasped as another painful tremor shook her body. More blood painted the dirtied floor of Los Noches. "A-Aizen was tr-trying to make a Hollow that was completely loyal to him with my abilities. He forced the Hollow into me by the Hogyoku. H-However, he didn't think about how my body is different. N-Now, the Hollow is fighting for control, and losing." She explained breathlessly, sounding surprisingly calm, as if she had come to terms with the end result._

_Her death. _

* * *

::Seventy Years Later::

Ichigo took a deep breath, stretching as the fabric of his shihakusho shifted across his skin. The familiar weight of Zangetsu, which had not been felt in many decades, was settled firmly between his shoulder blades.

The Soul Society smelled and looked the same, he noticed. It was still sunny, with no sign of rain in the sky. The grass was still green.

His previously white hair was back to its original orange, as he had regressed back from being the age he had died, seventy-eight, back to eighteen. The aches and pains that had accompanied him in his later years were gone, and he felt better than he had in who knows how long.

And on his left ring finger, there was no ring.

"Ichigo!"

He turned. "Hey, midget! Long time no see!" He called back, lifting an arm in greeting. Looking the same as always, Abarai Rukia barreled towards him, socking her tiny, but deadly, fist into his ribcage. He doubled over, wheezing. "Some things…never change, huh?" He gasped.

She rolled her eyes, grasping the black sleeve of his shihakusho and dragging him along with her. "C'mon, idiot. You'll be late."

"For what?" He blinked.

"Your _wedding, _nimrod. Or did you forget the promise you and Orihime made?" She responded.

He hadn't forgotten. Her words on that day were still as clear seventy years later, as they had been then.

"You mean its actually happening?" He asked, stunned.

"Of course its happening, Ichigo. Orihime's been planning and plotting for years. Ever since you were diagnosed with cancer."

He winced, clearly remembering how he had refused chemo due to his age.

Rukia noticed, and laughing, slugged him in the shoulder playfully, even if he still winced. "Don't worry. It's all and done now. And soon, you'll be married to your own princess."

His brown eyes lit up at the thought.

* * *

Whatever Ichigo had been expecting for the wedding, this wasn't it. There were only minimal decorations, involving bouquets for all of the woman actually in the wedding, including Rukia and Tatsuki as the maids of honor, along with Rangiku, Nemu, and Nanao as the bridesmaids. All of them were in the standard black shihakusho. There were also a few streamers in the surrounding trees, of pale orange, an almost silver, and green. All of the guests attending, which included pretty much all of their friends in the Soul Society, were not in their seats and were instead laughing and talking loudly amongst themselves.

The distinct voice of Zaraki Kenpachi was heard, asking anyone who would look at him if they wanted a fight, with the higher voice of Yachiru egging him on the entire time.

And with a suddenly tight throat, he realized that he could see his father, looking much younger and healthier than he last remembered, was also in the standard shinigami uniform, laughing and joking with some sixth squad members.

"She figured that you wouldn't want anything too extreme," Rukia's voice, surprisingly quiet, came from behind him and only a subtle flinch signaled that she had surprised him. "She thought that you would want it casual, and not as stiff as most of the weddings on earth are."

"She was right."

Unseen behind his back, Rukia smiled softly at the obvious tone of longing in his voice, before she shoved her small, sandaled foot against his back. "Get to the front, idiot. It's about to start."

Mindlessly, he moved up the aisle.

* * *

Orihime was more radiant than any of his memories had remembered. Her auburn hair, which was longer than he remembered and now fell to her hips, was pulled into a half-bun, held up by tiny white flowers embedded into her hair. Her big gray eyes were done lightly in black mascara and silver eyeshadow that made them seem even bigger and brighter than normal. Her lips were absent of any kind of lip gloss, except for a clear coating that made them even fuller. There was no blush on her cheeks, due to the natural hue of light pink that dusted them when she saw him standing there.

Her dress was strapless, and revealed just enough cleavage to make his mind wander into the gutter and stay there. It was an off-white, and molded to her torso nicely, before flaring into a subtle, unpleated skirt. Beads and sequins sparkled in the light, crossing over her belly and around her hips. There was a short train behind her.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered.

He took her hand and entwined their feelings, as she smiled up at him lovingly. "Hi, Ichigo-kun."

He flashed her a crooked smile that made the blush in her cheeks grow that much darker. "Hi, yourself."

Yes, he decided privately as they turned to the soutaichou in front of them, who would act as a would-be minister, if they had a religion. She was his Orihime.

And he was her Hikoboshi.

* * *

**Fin.**


End file.
